


Abligurrio

by djavjr



Category: Ghost (Swedish Band), Priest (Swedish Band)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Unsanitary, inhuman anatomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-12 20:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10498428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/djavjr/pseuds/djavjr
Summary: Singing is not the only thing Mercury's mouth is good for.





	

It was sometime well after midnight, but still an hour or so before the small box of grime and chipping wood that constituted the bar would be closing down. Most of the night's patrons had already paid their tabs and left, stumbling about in the inky dark just outside the dim glow of the bar's single, moth-filled street lamp. But a select few still remained, the ones still quietly nursing a drink, or those whose hands could not yet leave the shoulders and waists of their chosen stranger of the evening.

This handful of people, blurry-eyed and sticky with the night's sweat, swayed about in their seats to the sound of the haunting music that continued to stream through the air. This late at night, most bands would prefer not to perform, but the bar's newest addition was not like most bands. The trio of black-suited creatures that made up the band called Priest were bemasked like the owners of a prolific sex chamber, and were eerily silent when they played, save for the suspicious whir and hush coming from each of their chests that many patrons falsely assumed were just very loud pocketwatches. The two imposing birds and their shorter but still intimidating gimp could often be heard playing late into the night at the bar, their music a dark combination of electronic and classical that tickled along the shell of one's ear before sinking deep into the skin.

Near the end of their set, the vocalist, the one identified as Mercury by the more alchemically aware, had taken his usual early leave from the stage. He made an almost unseen motion with his hands to his birds when he stepped down and left them alone by their synths to continue on the set without him. Most of the time, Mercury would step upon the tiny stage between his aquiline bandmates to join them as they made music. But every night, when they were down to their last instrumental track or two, he would excuse himself to wander through the club and quietly chat with a random stranger.

The great thing about being the less-than-human vocalist for a band built upon synthesizers and prerecorded vocal tracks is that you are, for many times a night, not needed. To be sure, there was little reason for Mercury to even be Priest's vocalist. The sound of singing, approximated from millions of samples of human speech, that came from his own mouth was exactly the same as the track that could play from a single button on one of the birds' synthesizers. It was more of an aesthetic choice to have him stand upon the stage, grey lips parted to show chipped teeth as the words to the song echoed out from his cold throat.

Regardless of this fact, Mercury liked to keep up the charade, to pretend like he was one of Them, the drunken folk who clung to his words as eagerly as they did his arm or thigh. He would often pick a member of the audience, usually a young man, sometimes a woman, but always someone who had been and still was completely alone for the evening. He would sit with this lonesome soul and speak to them softly, his words a melodic whisper and theirs a slurring series of hesitations. This was how he learned about people, who they were, the things they enjoyed, what made them... them. And everyone who came for the show alone always secretly wished that it was them who Mercury would choose to speak with.

Tonight, Mercury stepped down from the stage and walked through the sparse number of people at dimly lit tables and booths, but this time he chose none of them. Instead, he silently moved through them, eyes catching and dropping the gaze of hopefuls until he left the small area constituting the venue space. Back in the main part of the bar, he turned a corner down a narrow and crooked hallway, entering a squeaky door which used to read "GUYS" in bronze letters, but one day dropped the "U" and never had it replaced.

Once inside, Mercury walked along the line of sinks under broken and dirty mirrors, eyes looking at the open gap below the stall doors. When he reached the end, convinced that there was no one else in the bathroom with him, he chose the stall at the far wall and entered it. He didn't even try to lock the rusting door behind himself. The broken latch would just swing back loose anyway.

Alone in the dingy stall, Mercury scanned his eyes over the graffiti written on the walls, preparing himself for what he was about to do. There were layers of words, in probably dozens of different handwritings, in at least three or four languages. There was the usual "fuck you" or "eat shit" that some edgy guy had decided needed to be carved into the wall, but there were also some more interesting pieces. A phone number that had the words "I have what you want" next to it. A set of names written in permanent marker but the second name had been crossed through with a different color. A deep carving that read "wHy ARE wE HERE" and a series of responses in different hands beside it: "for the beer," "the music dude," and most interestingly, "I didnt ask to be born."

Mercury read through all of these, hand absently moving over his chest as he breathed deeply, memorizing every curve and line of the words before him. To take the time to write something out, just to prove that you, for even a moment, existed in this small space was a concept not understood by the machine, but nonetheless heated his coils to think about. Humans were truly fascinating. Ruminating over the idea of what it would be like to feel passionate enough to write such things, he slowly trailed his hand down over himself to the front of his pants, his other dropping to meet it. With remarkably steady fingers, he undid the front of his pants and freed himself through the zipper, the soft leather of his gloves making him twitch already as he felt it on his length. Then, fingertips gently tracing along the underside, he began to stroke himself, mind wandering to thoughts of strong hands reaching within him to turn and click his inner parts.

Back outside at the venue, the birds Sulphur and Salt played to a dwindling audience, the sound of synthesizers humming to a stop at the end of the set's last song. There was no applause, and the birds did not expect any, either. By this point, there were only three people left in the bar besides themselves and the barkeep, wiping down his counter as he prepared to leave. However, they did expect their vocalist to have returned. He was usually finished with whatever conversation he was having with his new friend of the evening and back up on stage to pack up the gear by now, but he was, for whatever reason, nowhere in sight.

Sulphur and Salt looked at one another in silence, their eyes both asking the same question. Salt blinked and Sulphur nodded, and the birds dropped what they were doing and left the stage to find their missing member. Slowly turning their heads as they looked out over the open area, they searched the dark room, but Mercury was nowhere to be found. Another glance was shared between them, another nod, and the two immediately split up, Sulphur moving to check the back rooms of the bar and Salt making his way toward the front.

Salt was less cautious with his actions than Sulphur, bumping into one of the drunks who had stood to leave, and knocking the man aside. The man let out a brief "hey!" but was silenced by the questioning look that Salt gave in return. The bird creature then stepped out of the venue and walked along the narrow hallway to the entrance, looking about as he went, and even going so far as to glance out onto the empty street in case Mercury had wanted to filter in some fresh air, but he was still nowhere to be found.

Returning back inside the bar, Salt had a sudden thought and turned to look at the gendered set of doors in the hallway. It was unlikely, but there was nowhere else to turn. Salt looked first at the door marked "G_YS" and then to the one marked "GALS," shrugged, and entered the door he thought most appropriate.

Inside the bathroom, Mercury heard the door swing open, and footsteps on the damp floor. He paused the movement of his hand, fingers wrapped tightly around himself as his eyes dropped down to the shadow slowly making its way closer to him. And then, he heard a familiar sound, the sound of one of his birds exhaling warm steam through the holes in the bottom of their mask. At this sound, he relaxed, easing himself back into his rhythm. He knew it was only a matter of time before the bird found him, so what reason was there to hide his actions? It wasn't like there was anything to be ashamed of. It was nothing either bird had not seen, or assisted with, many times before.

Salt exhaled a quick burst of steam again, making slow steps across the floor as he peered over his beak to look for feet under the stall doors. At the last stall, he paused, seeing a familiar pair of shoes. At first, he took a step up to the door and was about to push it open, but he stopped himself at the soft sound of cloth running over a segmented metal. In an almost Pavlovian response, Salt's pants grew tighter, his body reacting well before his processor could. Were the bird capable of displaying humor, he may have chuckled at the situation, but instead he simply turned and entered the second-to-last stall, being sure that when he closed the door behind himself that it was not subtle.

Mercury did not need for Salt to be obvious. He knew that his bird was in the filthy room with him, but he wondered why the taller machine would not join him. He gave himself a thoughtful squeeze, toying with himself as he leaned against the concrete wall behind him. He stared at the flimsy wooden division between him and his bird, written words of both love and anger staring back at him, and the gears inside of him turned faster. And then, something caught his eye. In the wall between his stall and the next, a bit to the right of the toilet paper wheel, was a round hole, perhaps three inches in diameter. He had paid it no mind earlier, thinking it some kind of defect in the material, but he now realized that this hole had been put in intentionally. He was given only a moment to ponder upon its intended purpose before he heard the deliberate sound of a zipper being undone.

In the next stall, Salt had undone the zipper to his pants and began to lightly palm at himself, his length rising at the friction. The bird was completely silent as he prepared himself, the steady rise and fall of his chest due to the need to filter cooler air through his system. When he was sure he was ready, he stepped up close to the wall, turning his head to the side to lay his beak flush against the wood. Then, slowly, meticulously, he eased himself out from his pants and through the hole between the stalls.

The sound of shuffling drew Mercury's attention and he looked to the floor to see Salt's shoes edged under the barrier between them. He cocked his head to the side curiously, giving himself a rough series of tugs as he wondered what his bird was up to. And then, he glanced up to see a familiar curve of segmented metal peering up at him from the hole in the wall, a bead of white beginning to drip down from its tip.

Mercury let out a languid exhale at this sight, the realization of the situation unfolding before him heating his parts in a rather pleasant way. Though no one could see it, he attempted his best approximation at a smile, a slow-forming sneer that showed too many teeth, before dropping to his knees on the dirty floor. While he kept one hand on himself, pulling and teasing, he raised his other to the cold phallus before him. He explored the exposed metal he already knew so well, fingertips dancing over ridges and lightly tapping on the tip to pull out more of the liquid from within it.

Until now, Salt had waited patiently for Mercury's response, knowing full well what was to happen once the shorter machine took notice. But now, as he saw out of the corner of his eye a pair of knees fall to between his legs, and felt the tantalizingly soft touch of Mercury's fingers, he couldn't help his creaking groan. Cautiously but forcefully, he rocked his hips forward, pushing himself further through the hole in a silent plea for more.

Mercury blinked slowly at the reaction of his bird, tracing his fingertips back down along the taller machine's length and firmly wrapping his hand around it to steady it. And then, in one perfectly calculated motion, he tilted forward to accept the now dripping metal into his mouth. The taste of Salt, pouring into Mercury's mouth, was absolutely unreal. The tang of copper and nickel mixed with the sweetness of Salt's personal mixture of oils was better than any delicacy a human could conjure up, and more addicting than any drug. As he licked and sucked, teasing out more in short pumps, Mercury stroked his own hardness to the same pace, his own oils seeping out of him and onto his glove, sullying the leather.

The comforting warmth of Mercury's mouth made Salt close his eyes, blocking out everything but the feeling of that skilled, wet tongue. He raised his hands to the wall to hold himself up and attempted to rock his hips back and forth, but a strong hand on the other side kept him in place, pulling him close against the wall. Knowing that there was nothing else he could do but stand there and receive all that Mercury was willing to give, the circuits within him registered pleasure, his parts heating and producing more of the slick oil that continued to seep out of him.

It was only a matter of time before Salt would overheat, and Mercury aimed to bring his bird to this breaking point. Shifting on his knees to brace himself, he began to bob his head, slowly at first, but soon rising in speed, tongue flicking about on the underside to lap up the oils before they could spill. The hand he kept on himself matched this pace, the oil on his palm now serving as lubricant as he brought himself closer and closer to the edge.

And then, practically without warning, it happened. Salt arched his back hard and let out a stuttering groan as he felt all his circuitry course with energy before suddenly sending a sporadic surging through his core and out... directly into Mercury's waiting mouth. He struggled to stay upright, leaning against the wooden wall as his feet nearly failed him, hips trying to buck forward to give Mercury all that he had to offer.

The smaller machine eagerly swallowed the oil as it filled his mouth, the liquid a seemingly endless stream that threatened to dribble down his chin if he did not keep up, or splatter onto his face if he pulled away. The feeling of having his bird's hot internal fluids filling him, coating his insides, was exquisite. Enthralled by the moment, he drank heavily, the hand on himself moving faster and faster until finally, his own release was met. He gasped as his essence gushed out of him, making a mess of his hand and coating the floor by Salt's feet.

After several long moments, the systems of both machines cooled down again, the oil that leaked out of both of them slowing to a trickle and then to a stop. Through this, Mercury kept his mouth on Salt, still suckling gently to tease out every drop he could until he was sure there was nothing left to give. Then, satisfied, he slowly pulled away, tongue flicking out one last time to clean the tip in an almost playful manner.

Once he was freed, Salt hissed out a particularly thick puff of steam, staggering back a bit as he regained his balance. His unsteady hands lowered to tuck himself back into his pants, zipping them up again before brushing flat his suit from the activity it had seen just a few moments prior. Now back to a professional appearance, he exited the stall to stand in the middle of the bathroom floor. He put his hands behind his back, eyes on the door of the stall next to his, and patiently waited.

Mercury noticed how quickly Salt had recovered, the bird now obediently standing outside for him, and wondered if he was capable of feeling envy. Carefully, legs shaky from the ordeal, Mercury stood back up, eyeing first the viscous pool on the floor and then the niveous liquid that coated his hand. As he pushed on the stall door to exit, he slowly twisted his wrist this way and that, curiously viewing his hand from all angles. Outside the stall, in the open space of the bathroom, he locked eyes with Salt, exchanging looks with the bird of respect and fascination. Without looking away, without even blinking, he raised his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean of the mess he had made of himself.

Seeing this, Salt stiffened, but made no other reaction. Instead, he simply nodded toward the door, stepping aside to let Mercury leave first. The shorter machine held his gaze with Salt for a few meaningful seconds before walking out of the bathroom and back into the dead bar, his bird quick to follow.

Back at the venue, Mercury and Salt met back up with Sulphur, who was patiently seated atop the series of chests and amps that he had to pack up himself. When Sulphur saw his other two bandmates, the way they carried themselves slightly different than usual, a bit of a limp to their steps and a strong smell of heat and electricity around them, he didn't have to ask to know what they had done the past few minutes.

Sulphur was incapable of expressing jealousy, but Mercury knew what his bird was thinking, nonetheless. First giving Salt a pointed look, Mercury casually stepped over to Sulphur, gently grabbing him by the tip of his beak and turning his head to the side. He did not allow time for Sulphur to react before he leaned in, intimately close, to whisper breathlessly into his bird's ear. "Next time, it will be you."


End file.
